


Glory One

by th3rm0pyl43



Series: Primus [2]
Category: Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Adam Jensen is Cyberpunk Superman, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Dubious Science, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Injury Recovery, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Examination, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Mentor/Protégé, Minor Character Death, Missions Gone Wrong, Open Relationships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Primus Adam Jensen, Revenge, Saving the World, Shiny New Augmentations, Smoking, Talos Rucker Lives, Technobabble, The Orchid (Deus Ex), Too many feels, Two Fathers, Wheelchairs, grown men bawling their eyes out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/th3rm0pyl43/pseuds/th3rm0pyl43
Summary: As the Illuminati's schemes are foiled yet again, their patience wears thin - but in their attempt to tear out the greatest thorn in their side, they seal their own fate.





	1. 0x0000000c_UNHANDLED_EXCEPTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Adam... it’s not a virus that’s trying to fry your nerves. It’s the Orchid.”
> 
> An easy fix proves to be far more complicated than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:  
Detroit Convention Center  
Panchaea Ring Section

Mac really should know better by now than to keep letting Jensen pull stunts like this. But he'd let him go yet again, and now faced the consequences. 

Adam wasn't particularly heavy, in fact surprisingly normal considering half of his body was metal and carbon fiber, but it wasn't his physical weight that made Mac feel like he carried all the burdens of the world. It was the blood-freezing worry that hadn't gripped his gut like this in a long time.

The agent had looked just fine when he'd boarded the VTOL that would take them home. But after a few minutes, he had begun to shift uncomfortably, then swore under his breath and clutched his head, then sat completely still, pale as snow with clenched fists and cold sweat glistening on his forehead, only to collapse and writhe in excruciating pain.

Mac had cursed viciously and immediately called Sarif, then tried his damnedest to keep Adam from totaling either himself or the bird's interior. He'd managed well under pressure, and now that they had landed back at Columbus Tower, he just dearly hoped that Sarif could fix whatever was wrong... and that Isaac wouldn't have to see his father like this. 

* * *

Sarif himself accompanied the three doctors who awaited Mac and Adam with a gurney. Mac swore as he lifted the agent onto it with the last of his strength, and put all his own weight onto Adam’s left arm and shoulder to keep him from lashing out blindly.

"God, Adam, what did they do to you?" Sarif asked, laying a hand on Adam’s chest as the doctors got moving and Mac nearly struggled to keep up.

Adam groaned. "I... I'm not sure... I think it's some kind of virus trying to fry my biochip... it's like the Choke all over again, but more frequent, and even more painful..." He clenched his teeth as another wave of searing, white-hot agony ripped through him from within his throbbing skull down to his fingertips and toes. 

Sarif was quiet for a moment as he mulled this over. After hearing Adam’s horror story of the ‘Pent House’, he had pulled a few strings and ended up with an entire batch of those Tai Yong suppression chips in his hands. Their study had yielded both fascinating and terrifying discoveries, even more so with how vividly Adam had described ‘the Choke’. Sarif knew that when he compared something to the Choke, it was nothing he could simply shrug off. 

“All right, son. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

* * *

Adam was swiftly brought to the Gallery. Mac murmured something that almost sounded like a prayer on the elevator ride down and the doctors silently began preparations for placing the agent under observation, while Sarif simply _ thought _.

He was familiar with methods of exploiting an augmented enemy’s natural weaknesses, of course, ranging from short-term sensory scrambling over high-yield EMPs leaving them a sitting duck to good old sabotage like what had led to the Incident back in 2027. But never had he seen a biochip straight-up _ hacked _ like this… if that was indeed what had happened to Adam.

Sarif administered a personally adapted sedative to him, remaining within his field of view as the doctors removed his body armor and undersuit, handling him with utmost care when placing him in a flexible, multidirectional advanced operating and examination table that wasn’t quite shaped like a table - more like a bathtub or a bean pod, thus the nickname of ‘hammock’ that Sarif had given it.

The Hallmaster Medical Cradle automatically molded its configuration to Adam’s lean form, holding him securely at a roughly forty-five-degree angle so he could see what was going on. Sarif booted up the array of computers surrounding the HMC and reassuringly squeezed Adam’s shoulder as he walked past him. 

“Sit tight, Adam. I’ll be right back.”

The agent only managed to nod weakly, eyelids feeling leaden already.

Not a lot later, Sarif returned, having traded his business casual attire for a set of blue scrubs that set him apart from the three doctors in green he had in tow, who turned out to be no other than Megan Reed, Nia Colvin and Eric Koss. Evidently it wasn’t just Sarif who’d hit the books and gotten some medical training in the meantime.

“Right, let’s not waste any time,” Sarif spoke up after Megan had deposited her armful of reference material on a table. “You probably can’t tell, but our boy is in some helluva pain right now. He tells me he thinks it’s some kind of virus that’s messing with his biochip, and we need to confirm what exactly is causing it, then fix it. And if that’s not it, we’ll figure out how to at least stop the pain, then review our options. Let’s get to work!”

* * *

Hours passed more quickly than they had any right to. Sarif shelled Adam with questions, Colvin worked on creating a system image of his and running simulations inside a virtual machine, Koss constantly took notes, and Megan didn’t seem to be able to make up her mind between pacing uneasily, fidgeting, brooding over schematics and arguing with Sarif over what might be the root of the issue.

The sedative, thankfully, numbed the pain enough so that it receded to a dull ache pounding diffusely at the back of Adam’s head and vaguely concentrated in his shoulders and pelvis as well. He felt both anxious and strangely relaxed, comforted by the familiar faces, yet worried by Megan and Sarif butting heads when they needed to stick them together _ gently_. At some point, he had enough… and something else had been gnawing at him for a while now.

“David… was the sedative supposed to numb my limbs?” Adam asked, drowsy, but more clear-headed than he had expected to be. “I don’t think I can feel anything there anymore.”

Sarif frowned. “No. It wasn’t supposed to numb anything, just calm your nerves so you don’t get any spasms and risk trashing the place.” He stepped closer, grasped Adam’s left arm by the wrist and held it up, shaking it a little. It was completely limp, only the myomeres inside slightly resisting external movement as they naturally did. “Feel anything?”

“No. Nothing.” Adam’s expression was one of disbelief. He occasionally had nightmares of losing control of his limbs entirely, but to actually _ see _it happening was bizarre at best and disturbing at worst.

“That’s… not good.” Sarif let go and turned around, not wanting to let Adam see him genuinely worried now. “Megan?”

The scientist, bent over Colvin’s computer, shook her head. “Now it makes sense. It’s _ really _not good, but at least now I know what the hell’s going on.” She exhaled sharply and stood up straight to face Sarif and the agent.

“Adam... it’s not a virus that’s trying to fry your nerves. It’s the Orchid.”

For a moment, no one knew quite what to say. 

The Orchid was rapidly lethal to anyone who suffered from Darrow Deficiency Syndrome - or would, if they were to be augmented, but Adam was the only one in existence who did not. Megan had worked on the Orchid before turning her back on VersaLife, taking back her research on ‘Patient X’ at the price of no longer being able to control the unfinished cure. Sarif had displayed his trust in her by allowing her to work with him again and make peace with Adam. But now, to hear her tell him that the very same fatally flawed cure she had developed had been used against him…

“Huh… so _ that’s _it,” Adam huffed. “Is it going to kill me?”

Megan bit her lip. “No. But if we don’t stop it now, I’m afraid you’ll end up wishing it had.”


	2. Eve's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All these years I’ve just been digging Adam’s grave.”
> 
> Emotion burns bright, speculation runs wild, and truth eludes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:  
Omega Ranch Exterior  
Sarif Manufacturing Plant: Assembly Labs  
Megan's Office  
Detroit: Jensen's Apartment

“I don’t understand this, David. When I ran tests with what little material I had left, it always resisted the Orchid’s effects completely. What’s going wrong?”

Sarif couldn’t make any sense of what was on the transparent screen either. Megan had dug up her research logs on the initial Orchid development, and the stark difference between those and the simulation of what was very likely to happen to Adam was nothing short of horrifying. 

“DNA can’t just change like this on its own. Something must’ve caused some damage previously. Are you sure he-”

“I’ve been exposed to the Orchid before, Megan.”

Both whirled around to face Adam. He had closed his eyes to rest at some point, and now lifted his head and opened them again. Cold, creeping fear glinted harshly in his irises.

Megan stepped closer. “Adam, right now I couldn’t care less why you never told us, but fix that. _ Now _.”

“Do you remember GARM, in Switzerland? I investigated the place on Miller’s orders. Turned out that they knew I was coming - Marchenko caught me as I was about to enter. He dosed me with the Orchid and left me to die out in the cold.” Adam wetted his lips. “I survived, and tried again, this time without being spotted. I don’t remember suffering any ill effects afterwards, unlike now.”

She stared at him for a long moment - 

\- then slammed a fist down on the stack of books on the table next to her. “God_ dammit_!”

Silence again, save for the hum of the computers and the climate control. Sarif gingerly approached Megan and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Megan, I don’t think you should-”

He broke off as she straightened and faced him, tears glistening in her eyes, her voice wavering. “This is all my fault, David. I never should’ve gone to VersaLife. Fuck Page and his puppet masters, God fucking damn it. All these years I’ve just been digging Adam’s grave.”

“Megan…”

She grimaced, and the tears stained her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Adam,” Megan whispered. “As if I haven’t ruined your life enough times already.”

* * *

Another hour passed on the clock. The scientists had taken a break to help Megan regain her composure, only Sarif staying behind, massaging his forehead.

“This is one bitch of a situation, son,” he murmured and leaned back in his chair, on eye level with Adam, who’d had the HMC reconfigured so he was in a sitting position. “I agree with Megan, Page is a snake. But the work she did? Phenomenal. The universal cure for DDS, just a few more years away… even if by then the world won’t want it anymore, the way things are looking.”

Adam had been staring mutely at the floor, and now sighed through his nose and looked at Megan’s books. _ The Nature of Neuroplasticity_, _ Arms (and Legs) for Man_, and more titles that he dimly remembered reading at some point. “Megan said it won’t kill me, but if we don’t stop it, I’d wish it would have. What is this fate worse than death that she wants to spare me, David?” he asked tiredly.

Sarif swallowed the imaginary lump in his throat. “She told me that without the neutralizing agent, it will most likely forcefully induce DDS, and since your DNA’s been partially altered by the first exposure to the Orchid already by the looks of it… we can’t know for sure what exactly will happen, for lack of testing… but she’s almost certain that this form of DDS, while not fatal like for us… would cause irreparable nerve damage and prevent you from ever being able to use any augmentations again.”

Adam closed his eyes. “Making a Tantalus of the _ wunderkind_. Poetic.” He exhaled slowly, pushing away the horrific images he’d seen in nightmares. Old nightmares, from back then just after Sarif had saved his life. Few things were able to make them resurface again after so long. 

“...Right. Megan created the Orchid, and she also created the antidote that saved Miller. What’s keeping her from digging up the research logs and synthesizing more of the neutralizing agent?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Adam,” Sarif sighed, shaking his head. “She’s almost out of her mind with worry, even though your fate is in her hands… or maybe _ because _ it is. And as you saw just before, she still carries this guilt over ‘ruining your life so many times already’, in her words. She’s letting her emotions get to her, but I don’t think that’s something I can help her overcome. This is between you and her.”

“I need to talk to her, then. But I imagine seeing me like this is only making it worse for her. Any chance I’ll be able to use these again anytime soon?” Adam pointed down at his legs with his chin.

“I don’t know,” Sarif admitted.

A chime at the door, and the scientists entered again. Sarif stood up to stretch briefly, then sat down again at one of the computers.

Megan had obviously been crying, but looked much more calm now. Colvin had a comforting hand on her shoulder as she took a seat on the chair Sarif had moved in front of the HMC.

“Are you still in pain, Adam?”

Adam nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Reason I haven’t been talking a lot… though it’s more bearable now.”

“Okay.” Megan took a deep breath and reached out to take his hand into hers, holding on tightly to it even though he couldn’t feel it. “I’m sorry for that outburst, Adam. I just… David must’ve told you what’s likely to happen if we can’t stop this. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’ll do anything in my power to prevent it. I promise.”

Adam would’ve reassuringly squeezed her hand in response, but there was _ nothing _ , as if his limbs simply weren’t there. Not even pins and needles or phantom sensations like _ back then_. Just dark, oppressive numbness.

“I guess that means you can’t recreate the neutralizing agent I recovered from the VersaLife vault in Prague?”

The scientist shook her head. “No, I can’t. Page controls all known suppliers of the components, and I can’t obtain any of them without him knowing where I am. Who I’m with now. I won’t jeopardize everyone here for something that might not even work with you.”

“All right… why not start with trying to plug the hole and get me control of my limbs back? Maybe that might lead towards a solution,” Adam suggested. 

“Easier said than done. I’ll need to take some more samples and run more tests… I need to see what the second Orchid dose did to your DNA and how extensive the damage is, Adam. I know what I’m doing, but I need time to work.”

Sarif grinned wryly. “I knew those wheelchairs would come in useful someday.”

* * *

Mac was more exhausted than he’d ever been since London.

For the first hour or so, he had paced back and forth outside the Gallery, hanging on Faherty’s lips every time the scientist came out to give him an update on Adam’s status. Then he had left and gone upstairs to exercise his agitation away, brutalizing punching bags and lifting weights and running until his head spun too much for him to even remember his own name. Then, a dinner of fish and chips (apparently Faherty had asked the chef to get Mac a little piece of home) that at least filled his stomach, but did nothing to ease the anxious knot inside it. Finally, he returned to the residences at the top after over five hours since touching down.

He stared up at the ceiling, barely taking note of the beautiful caustics coming from the colorfully lit aquarium now that the sun had set in the west. Isaac was happily occupying himself with toys and books and had understood that Uncle Mac needed some rest after Auntie Fay had left, bless the little bugger’s heart. Malik, the absolute angel, had told Mac that the kid was far more fun to care for than any other four-year-olds she had ever met, so at least that was a win today.

Sarif had called earlier, asking Mac to sit down, then spilling the beans. God, he was worried to death. Both of them. The fucking _ Orchid_, the same thing that had almost killed Miller if Adam hadn’t had the foresight to steal the antidote out of the Palisade bank. If Dr. Reed hadn’t proven her loyalty to Sarif a year ago, Mac wouldn’t have hesitated to give her a piece of his mind.

Though to be fair, it wasn’t her fault that the incomplete Orchid was still being used by the actual goddamn Illuminati to erase people from the face of the world in the most horrible way. She had stolen all the data before leaving and called in an air strike on the facility afterwards, so at least they’d have to work around that if they wanted to make more of the stuff.

Yet still.

_ Fuck_.

“Hey, Little J?” Mac called.

Paper rustled, and Isaac soon climbed up on Mac’s bed, sitting down cross-legged next to him. “Where’s Papa, Uncle Mac? He always comes back with you.”

Ugh. Explaining serious shit to anyone who wasn’t a grown adult, tiny genius or not, was definitely not his strong suit. Mac sat up, grunting as his tired muscles made it more difficult, and shuffled around to face the kid, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Something bad happened to Adam,” he said gently. “It’s not _ very _ bad, but he’s gonna need a lot of rest, and Megan and David are taking good care of him. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but whenever they’re done, they’ll have him fixed up good.” _ I hope_. 

“Okay.” Isaac nodded vigorously. “I miss him. But when bad things happen to people, they have to…” He frowned. “Re-cuppa?”

“Recuperate. Or recover, either works.”

“Recover! Yes!” The boy bounced and pumped his little fists into the air, and a smile cracked on Mac’s features. He was always so excited to learn a new word, and proud to remember it. “Papa’s very strong. I love him very much.”

“Aye, he is,” Mac agreed. “I love him too.”

Isaac held up his arms. “Hug?”

The specialist grinned. “Hug.” He picked up Isaac by the armpits and had him sit in his lap, and the little one latched right on to his torso, snuggling into the comfortable cotton shirt Mac had thrown on after his workout. The latter hadn’t done as much to distract him as he’d hoped, but at least ‘Little J’ never failed to lighten his mood.

* * *

Adam was glad that he had learned patience across the last five years.

Sarif had given him another, lower dose of the adapted sedative, waited for it to kick in, then fetched a wheelchair and brought him to Megan’s laboratory, where he at least got to sit comfortably and rest for some time while the scientist went to work, analyzing the biopsies and samples she had taken. 

At some point while Adam was dozing, Sarif came in and had a serious-sounding conversation with Megan. It gradually devolved into an argument that neither seemed willing to concede on first. Adam listened, eyes closed, as they went back and forth over… him, of course. 

“They’re more than just unique, David, surely you can’t just replace them and call it a day?”

“If the Orchid’s attacking the tissue around the PEDOTs because they’re active, the solution is to make them _ inactive_. Sure, I could just go into his OS and disable them manually, but according to the test results, that would just slow down the spread a little bit.”

“‘A little bit’ is enough to buy us time. I don’t like the idea of removing them one bit, and neither would he, I’m sure. He’s spent so much time getting used to them - you can’t just give him a whole new set just because they have a few more toys inside!”

“Listen - the experimental systems? I went over the blueprints Adam recovered from that bloodstained apartment in Prague. Orlov may have been a dangerous son of a bitch, but he had the right idea. I’ve been wanting to reverse-engineer them and see how much more I could do - how much more _ Adam _ could do if I could just crack the damn code. Those ‘toys’ are the next step, Megan!”

“We don’t know yet if the Orchid’s caused any permanent damage yet. It may be more extensive than my estimate even if we stopped the DNA corruption right now. _ If _ we get this fixed, it’s very much possible that he’ll be back to square one even with the same set of limbs that he’s had for five years.”

“You said the corruption’s causing the cells to attach to the PEDOTs and somehow replicate the broken code by feeding off its material. Then why not take them out so the spread stops, the corrupted cells die off, and the nerve tissue can heal?”

“No, he doesn’t have time to be bedridden for months again. Besides, I’m not quite sure if it’s just the shoulders and hips or if it’s happening inside his body too. I have no way to find out without straight-up cutting him open, and I don’t want to perform unnecessary procedures.”

“He’s become far more resilient than he used to be, Megan. Besides, he has the RX now, and so far it’s been performing above expectations. This is risky, I get it, but if I hadn’t taken any risks back then, we’d have lost him!”

“Christ, have you _ looked _ at him? He’s _ scared_. Yes, right now he’s effectively a tetraplegic, but you want to turn him back into an amputee too?” Megan paused, presumably to gesture insistently. “Unlike you, apparently, I care about his mental health as well. It took him so long to adjust to his body looking and working so differently, and you want to take it away just to have a peek under the hood even though you built the damn things yourself? Get a grip, David! You’d throw one hell of a tantrum if you had to fork over your hands with no guarantee of the new ones being any good for you, or getting a replacement at all. You can’t possibly imagine what Adam would go through if you took literally _ half of his fucking body _ from him!”

Sarif had nothing to go against that.

“...or maybe that’s exactly what you did,” she said bitterly. “And you think you can just take away what you gave him, even if it’s unmistakably _ his _ now. No, I say. You’re not scarring him even worse on my watch.”

“...Megan, I don’t think you’re seeing the whole picture right now. I understand that you worry for him, but-”

“I _ love _ him! _ Of course _ I worry for him!” Megan shouted, a metallic crash resounding throughout the lab. “David Sarif, you’re not putting even a fucking _ screwdriver _anywhere near him until I get this bullshit sorted out, or so help me God-!”

“All right, all right. Clearly this isn’t the right approach-”

“_Get out_!”

Sarif left quickly and without another word, but not with his tail between his legs. He would come back another time and try again, Adam knew.

He opened his eyes. Megan was leaning on a table, covering her face, and he could hear her quietly sobbing. She had knocked a metal tray to the floor - thankfully empty, as far as he could tell. On the monitors lining the walls, scans and test results were displayed, and one bore a visualization of a double helix, but it was… broken, misshapen. _ I’m not quite sure if it’s just the shoulders and hips or if it’s happening inside his body too. _

Adam swallowed heavily. “Megan?” he called out softly.

She swore under her breath, straightened and came over to the corner where she had given him the couch. Her eyes were reddened and her cheeks glistening, and her expression showed nothing but regret as she sat down opposite him. “How much of that did you hear, Adam?”

“Enough.”

She grimaced. “He wants to take your limbs from you just so he can get at Orlov’s shoddy work. I won’t let him.”

Adam shook his head. “That’s not what worries me. It’s that - DNA corruption, you said? Tell me about that.”

Megan’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled sharply. “You know how the Orchid works - finds the gene that causes DDS and deletes it, but in its incomplete state, that doesn’t work because of something I still haven’t been able to find a solution for. You don’t have that gene, so you’re immune to its lethal variant - or at least your natural DNA is. But…” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “The only way I can imagine the Orchid messing you up like this is if the dose you were first exposed to was tainted in some way and deleted things it shouldn’t have. And if it was, I’m not responsible for that, because I always insisted to Page that the Orchid should under no circumstances be altered without my approval.”

Adam took all of that in quietly, nodding as it began to make sense. “I found a large number of Orchid vials stored inside GARM. Viktor Marchenko was the one who stuck me with one and threw me in the snow… I later found out that he carried out multiple kill orders with it, and before Miller’s men put him behind bars, I found another vial in his possession after taking him down. It’s beginning to look to me like he was familiar enough with the Orchid to be able to modify it, and tried to create his own variant that would be lethal to me specifically.”

“It wouldn’t even have to be modification of the CRISPR module to destabilize your system. Since it goes into the bloodstream, he could’ve cut it with any carcinogen. Likely something available from GARM’s environment, if he recognized that you were dangerous just after you encountered him in Golem City and decided to take you out of the picture before you jeopardized his mission. One-two punch; first the Orchid poisoning’s immediate effects to delay you infiltrating GARM, then this.. slow-acting decay, whatever the hell it is.”

Adam frowned. “Carcinogen? Why…”

Megan looked him straight in the eyes. “David’s telling me not to worry about cutting you open just for biopsies because he thinks the _ Sentinel _ can take care of everything. Guess what; it can’t. This tainted Orchid’s effects are behaving like cancer, Adam.” She shook her head. “The _ Sentinel_’s designed to fix traumatic injuries, keep the organs functioning and counter the effects of chronic conditions, and it detects when something’s wrong through biosensory input and comparing it to a ‘should’ value. It has no way of telling ‘is’ from ‘should’ when a clump of cells decides to multiply like rabbits in spring, because David didn’t want it to cause growth issues in kids. It’s an intentional design flaw that isn’t helping at all right now.”

Both were quiet, mulling over this for a moment. Megan rested her elbow on her knee and her head in her hand, looking tiredly at Adam, who had trouble making sense of all of this. He met her gaze again as he spoke up.

“So… our theory is that it’s not actually the Orchid itself that has me in this state, but whatever Marchenko spiked it with. Can you find out what it was, Megan? I know the Orchid’s undetectable, but if it’s a carcinogen like you think, maybe it’s something that left traces?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, biting her lip. “I can dig deeper in the biopsies, but right now I want to know if this… well, it’s not exactly a tumor. It’s more like-” She broke off and shook her head, reordering her thoughts. 

“So, what’s happening at your hips and shoulders is that the tissue surrounding the PEDOT arrays is behaving _ like _ a tumor. It’s constantly producing new cells, because the material of the PEDOTs contains something that’s telling it to produce them - which it didn’t before, and even David has no idea what’s up with that. Now, those cells die off pretty quickly because the DNA they contain is corrupted and missing a lot of parts because they’ve reproduced so many times and had mutations, meaning they’re not actually capable of _ living_, but most of them do last long enough to split and reproduce into more faulty cells. But your immune system isn’t cleaning up the dead cells because the rest of your body lacks the gene that identifies them as undesirable. They build up and, since all of this is happening inside neural tissue, eventually block the connections to the PEDOT arrays, hence you losing control of your limbs,” she recounted, concentrating on some arbitrary spot on the green blanket Sarif had left Adam. 

“It’s artificially induced DDS. Eroding your nervous system inwards, bit by bit. The violent autoimmune reaction that kills anybody else isn’t going to happen, so this… actually shares quite a few traits with AIDS, come to think of it. Both of us are HIV-negative, for the record.”

Overwhelmed, Adam had leaned back and rested his head on the pillow behind him, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s a mouthful, for sure. Can you explain it to me like I’m a four-year-old that isn’t Isaac?”

The corners of Megan’s lips twitched for just a moment at the mention of their son. “Okay, slowpoke.” She counted on her fingers. “Marchenko’s Orchid is triggering symptoms of DDS. Your genetic quirk is coming back to bite you in the ass. You won’t die a horrible death by autoimmune reaction. However, your nervous system is slowly being clogged up and if we don’t stop it, not even augments will be able to help you.”

Now _ this _ Adam could finally wrap his head around… and the implications were every bit as horrifying as Megan and Sarif’s heated exchange had made them look. 

He sighed deeply. “How much time do you think we have?”

She stood up and came to sit next to him, pushing him a little ways so she could nestle against his side, arms around his shoulders. “To stop the DNA corruption from spreading too far and causing actual tumors? As long as it takes us to find out how, in theory, as long as we kept cleaning up the dead cells, but I’m not sure how we’d go about that. As far as I can tell, there’s no way to reliably predict how quickly it would spread to, say, your chest cavity… provided the PEDOT arrays inside your body are unaffected.”

“All right. At least that’s a minor comfort.” He huffed through his nose. “If it’s really the material of the PEDOT arrays that are causing the corruption, do you think they’re actually eating away at it, or just passively being made to reproduce like crazy?”

“David’s scans have shown some internal irregularities where the arrays are located, so that’s very much possible.”

“So in theory, eventually there wouldn’t _ be _ any more of them and I’d need my augs replaced anyway?”

Megan paused. “If that’s what happens - yes.”

“And since you just said you’re not sure how to go about cleaning up the garbage, I guess you’d have to remove them too so you can get at the tissue in the first place?”

She averted her gaze and pressed her lips together, but didn’t pull away. “It’s the easiest way, yes, but… I’ve read the psych eval reports. And the pictures from the… surgery…” Megan closed her eyes. “You spent so much time hurting, not just because of the dysmorphia but from the sheer traumatic experience too. God, they didn’t even fully sedate you. You were screaming, Adam. As they took your body from you and gave you something you never asked for.”

Adam felt a cold shudder run down his spine as the memories resurfaced. Yes, he had been awake. Yes, the horrors still plagued him in violent, fragmentary nightmares filled with blood and shards. Yes, he would have refused if he’d had the choice… but Sarif had made that choice for him, and he could do nothing but live with it.

“David gave me a gift that day, Megan,” he said quietly. “I spent so much time hating it, viewing it as as curse - _ wanting _it so badly to be a curse if only so he’d let me throw it away out of spite.”

He paused, his next breath slightly unsteady.

“The moment I stepped into the White Room… I felt that all the suffering was worth it. _ You _ were worth it, Megan, worth pulling through because the hope of finding you again was my lifeline. You and Isaac, and Mac… you still keep me going. Every single day.”

Megan turned back to find Adam’s eyes glistening like hers had a few minutes ago. Heavens, they were still every bit as soulful as _ before_. 

She held him close and stroked his hair as he cried, everything crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Even he had limits - a truth that would always keep rearing its ugly head and remind him that he was still human, still had a heart that beat strong for his precious few loved ones.

Megan pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and gently dabbed at Adam’s eyes and cheeks, cradling his head. “I still love you, Megan,” he ground out, the close contact easing the overwhelming fear just a little bit. “I once thought I didn’t anymore. God, I was so wrong.” He wanted to hold her so badly, but his limbs no longer obeyed him. Dead metal, useless to the screaming head and torso on the operating table.

“I love you too, Adam.” She pressed her lips to his forehead, her always so delicate fingers running through his unruly hair. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna find out how to stop this, and then David will fix it, even if that means getting you new augs. It’s okay.” She lowered her head, and they met in a kiss that was raw and needy and desperate. 

“I promise.”


	3. Brute Force Herbicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Digging deeper both eases concerns and raises more questions.

Mac fiddled with the keycard in his pocket as he waited nervously outside Sarif’s workshop. 

He’d just caught the tail end of Megan moving a wheelchair in there before the door had shut and locked behind her. Now he could hear muffled arguing - her, Sarif and Adam. At least they weren’t outright yelling at each other, he supposed. Throwing a fit wouldn’t help anybody.

It had been almost eighteen hours since Sarif had left him standing outside the Gallery. Sure, he’d updated him on what they’d found so far, but damn it, he wanted to see Adam himself, no matter how ugly a sight he might possibly be at the moment.

The agitated voices quieted for a moment, briefly growing louder again before falling silent entirely. Footsteps approached the opaque electrochromatic glass window, then the door opened, revealing Sarif. “Come on in, MacReady. Adam told me you wanted to see him.”

Well, at least the man’s Smart Vision still functioned. Mac didn’t have to be told twice and followed him inside. 

The place was an organized mess as always, walls lined with tool racks, worktables covered in blueprints, parts and half-assembled contraptions. Like Megan’s lab, one of its corners featured a couch, a coffee table and some chairs, where the scientist herself had taken a seat. Next to her stood a wheelchair with Adam in it, his limp posture (or _ lack _of posture) making him look jarringly frail in the loose shirt and shorts he’d been dressed in.

“Hey, Mac. Missed you already.” The agent smiled up at him as he sat down in the chair on his other side.

Mac took in the sight more closely as Sarif returned to his own seat. Adam looked tired, but otherwise fine… if it wasn’t for him sitting like a sack of potatoes. “Aye, I’m glad to see you’re still kicking, I guess. But…” He gingerly laid a hand on Adam’s forearm, almost flinching at how cool it was to the touch now that it was dead weight. “Is it true that you’re basically a four-way amputee right now?”

“Mac, I’ve technically been a quadruple amputee for five years,” Adam responded with a puff of humorless laughter. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it. I can’t move anymore. Megan’s gonna explain why - I hope you’re better at understanding medical-ese than me.”

Mac couldn’t help pulling a crooked grin for a moment. Shit, he loved Adam’s dry-as-bones sense of humor. Sobering again, he turned to face Dr. Reed. “All right, Doc. Tell me what the fuck kinda wrench there is in our Tin Man’s gears and how much of a chance we have at fishing it out.”

“We suspect that Viktor Marchenko didn’t use the real Orchid against Adam, but a variant that was modified or tainted,” she said. “I have yet to find out in what way it was spiked, but after running more tests, I’m certain that it’s forcing Adam to experience symptoms of DDS - namely the buildup of tissue around the neural junctions, which has already blocked the connections to his limbs, causing him to lose sensation and control. However, because of the very same quirk in his DNA that makes him immune to the Orchid and the usual onset of DDS, his immune system isn’t clearing away that tissue, and he also won’t experience the violent autoimmune overreaction that kills anybody else. Essentially, it’s a forcefully induced neurodegenerative condition - think Alzheimer’s, just not in the brain, but slowly choking Adam’s nervous system with what’s basically tumors. If he were to miraculously survive that, he’d become completely paralyzed from the neck down, and nothing short of transplanting his head on top of a complete aug body could help him.”

Adam grimaced at the notion even though he’d heard it more than a few times already. Mac had really only understood half of all that, but what he certainly did understand was that his mate’s life was on the line. “Some great fucking prognosis there,” he commented darkly. “So, how do we stop this? Or- how do _ you _ stop this? Because there ain’t squat I can do to help aside from holding his hand.”

“Actually-” Sarif pointed out, “if you really want to help, you can. I’ve been meaning to meet with Miller in person for some time, maybe show him around. We could use TF29’s assistance with investigating this modified Orchid.”

Mac growled. “Sure, they can try, but the _ one _guy who’s actually been getting shit done for them is about as useful as a paperweight right now.”

“Paperweights can still kill a man if you throw them hard enough,” Adam muttered hoarsely. 

“Blimey, you know what I mean! The task force’s been just barely treading water while you’ve been gone. Miller told me every time he sends an agent to deal with risky shit, he thinks of how much more easy he could rest if that agent was you, because there’s nothing you can’t get done if you put your mind to it - not to mention you’re just about fuckin’ impossible to kill. That message got through that titanium skull o’ yours?”

“Yeah, point taken.” Adam cleared his throat.

Megan had gotten up to grab a glass of water during Mac’s tirade, speaking up as she sat back down. “David’s going to run more tests on Adam’s OS and systems. In his opinion-” - she glared briefly at Sarif while carefully raising the glass to Adam’s lips - “-the best course of action is to remove his prostheses, possibly the sockets too, then surgically excise the growths and rely on his _ Sentinel _ to regenerate the neural tissue. I don’t fundamentally have a problem with this, but there are a few risks to this that I’m not sure either Adam or me are comfortable taking.”

Sarif certainly didn’t appreciate being painted as a target, considering Mac shot him a look of _ what the hell, man_, and neither did Adam appreciate Megan speaking for him when there was nothing wrong with his brain or voice box, thank you very much - but both knew better than to interrupt her when she was so focused, and Mac simply knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“One: I know the _ Sentinel _ works fantastically for angiogenesis and repairing traumatic injuries.” Adam murmured a thanks, and Megan put the empty glass aside. “But a known shortcoming lies with nerve tissue - it _ can _ regenerate it, but this accelerated regrowth causes the cells to mutate more frequently and have a higher chance of turning out non-functional, so they take longer to adapt to any changes and, in long-term observation, are functionally inferior to naturally regenerated nerve tissue. David’s been working on it together with Declan, but so far they haven’t been able to find the perfect middle ground between quick regeneration and sustained function.”

Sarif nodded in agreement. “We’re getting close to the solution, but it will take more time.”

“Two: I’m very concerned about how Adam fares mentally while his body is out of commission like this. It took so long for him to feel comfortable with his prosthetics, and to be honest, I don’t want to know what happens if we remove them now after so much time of simply being part of him, both physically _ and _ mentally. Sure, if it works, he’ll be up and running again, but you all know from experience that mental health is just as important as the physical.”

Mac frowned. She was right, but… “Well, have you _ asked _ him?” he questioned. “Because if I were you, I wouldn’t particularly worry about that. It’s been four years, Doc. I know all the weird fuckin’ ways PTSD manifests, and since Little J turned up last year, Jensen Senior here hasn’t shown _ any _ of that, absolutely nothing.” He shook his head, oblivious to Adam rolling his eyes. “I’d been noticing some lingering symptoms before the stork air-dropped the kid in his flat - the small shit you don’t pay attention to if you’re not aware. He got worse for a couple weeks after London, then steadily better again, and by the time we lifted off-”

“You both sure are good at talking over the person who’s _right here_,” Adam cut him off, annoyed, and threw Megan a displeased glance as well, sighing through his nose. 

Both remained silent while he composed his thoughts. They briefly shared an apologetic look, and Sarif sat up straighter.

“Megan’s right,” Adam began, “this is terrifying, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve lost access to some or most of my augs before - the _ Hei Zhen Zhu _ and RBS, the Pent House, the Růžička Station bombing. But never my whole arms and legs.” He paused, looking at each of the three others one by one. “Yes. This is almost fifty percent of my body that we’re talking about. But right now it’s a pile of dead scrap, and I don’t see any benefit to being stubborn about keeping them attached when it’s very much possible that it’s directly worsening the nerve damage or even enabling it. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do, and I’d appreciate being able to walk again someday. Staying like this for good is not an option.”

Mac nodded in agreement. “You were never the type to just shut up and accept something, regardless of whether it turned out to be something you could change or not,” he said after a moment. “Textbook Sun Tzu. ‘If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight’. For what it’s worth, he’d be proud.”

“Exactly. I won’t have any of us just sit around and do nothing for fear of making things worse.” Adam’s expression sharpened with focus. “If you remove my limbs completely, there won’t be any difference to my mobility - I already can’t move anymore, so they might as well not be there at all. Yes, it’ll confuse the shit out of my brain, but that’s nothing I can’t handle one way or another. If David’s estimates are correct, my nerves will be able to heal, and in time I’ll be able to use prostheses again.” 

He nodded once in Sarif’s direction, then looked to his right at Megan. “If we don’t remove the augs - if I’m understanding Megan’s findings correctly - then the degeneration will continue, whatever Marchenko added to the Orchid will remain in my system and potentially cause even more damage, and I’d still be unable to move on my own - all for the sake of preserving something that I honestly don’t think is nearly as fragile anymore as it used to be. I’ve been feeling comfortable in my own skin again for almost three years - David can tell you all about it.”

The scientist forced herself to meet his gaze, biting her lip. “It won’t be a problem, Megan. I’m absolutely sure.”

Adam’s softening expression eased her worry just a little bit, and she sighed heavily. “Okay, Adam. I trust you to know what you’re comfortable with.”

For a while, none of the four said anything, taking a moment to process everything. Megan in particular felt reassured by Adam himself telling her it would be fine, but the concern still gnawed at her.

Oh, well. That just came naturally with having the world’s most unique Aug for a fiancé, she thought dryly.

“So, Adam, you’re absolutely sure we should go ahead with this?” Sarif asked for confirmation. 

Adam nodded sharply. “Yes. Remove them, and then do whatever it takes to fix me up, no matter how complex or long-winded. I’ll stop at nothing if it means being able to go back into the field when the time’s right.”

* * *

Explaining the entire mess to Isaac was a whole other can of worms, but the boy understood it well enough to know that his father was hurt in a way that wasn’t a visible wound and that he couldn’t move on his own at the moment. The wheelchair fascinated him, and he insisted on sitting on Adam’s lap while heading downstairs for dinner.

Isaac giggled while watching Megan help Adam eat, comparing it to ‘flying spoons’, and Mac kept shaking his head at how bizarre the sight was. Sarif shrugged and said that needing assistance was nothing to feel embarrassed for, Colvin, Faherty and Koss agreed heartily, and Malik joked about how close the apple fell from the tree.

Later, ‘Uncle Deck’ and ‘Aunty Nee’ played with Isaac while Sarif and Koss reviewed the day’s findings and took care of paperwork. Malik challenged Mac to drink her under the table, and Adam and Megan left to have some alone time.

Their residence was a welcoming place, outfitted and decorated to their liking, but the tension in Adam’s body was all but visible even after changing into nightwear. Megan brought a few more pillows and rearranged their bedding to make it as comfortable for Adam as she could, finally slipping under the blankets with him.

“How’s this?” she asked, shifting closer to rest her body against his. “Anything else? I could get Theo, you know how much he likes sleeping on top of you.”

Adam shook his head with a sigh. “No, it’s fine. You’ve done just about all you can.” Resignation was written all over his expression. His mask was crumbling. “I just…”

Anyone with functional eyes could see how deeply this impacted him, and Megan knew he was going to break down sooner or later. Then wallow in misery at rock bottom for a while, at some point deciding to start climbing again. 

But no one had managed that yet without hands.

“I’m scared, Megan,” Adam admitted, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “...More than that. I’m fucking terrified.”

“I know.” She brought up her hands to cradle his head, running fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the hexagonal mark on his forehead, well-trimmed nails gently carding through the dense fuzz of his beard.

He paused for a moment, producing a soft whimper that made Megan’s heart sink. Then he lifted his head to look her in the eyes, his own gleaming with moisture, voice cracking. “How’s a man even supposed to deal with this? I get shot in the head and thrown through glass, and David put me back together good as new. Now I got stuck with a goddamn needle and it’s already making me wish it’d killed me.”

She held him tightly as he burst into bitter, frightened tears, sobs alternating with sounds of anguished frustration. A warrior made helpless, fractured.

The longer, the more anger began shining through. Defiance. Determination. Good.

“I didn’t-” Adam bared his teeth, grimacing as he quivered. “_Fuck_. I didn’t spend two years mentally in the shitter just for this to come along and- and- take from me what’s mine!” The last of his composure went into keeping himself from outright screaming his throat raw. “David- he took my body from me in exchange for life. I don’t- resent him for it, not anymore. This is- my body now. This is who I- am. Nothing that I’ve- done in the last three years would’ve been possible- without it.”

He closed his eyes, valiantly attempting to steady his breath and put his petrifying fear into words. “It’s not- removing my augs that’s got me so scared,” he clarified. “Can’t be afraid of losing my- arms and legs when I technically don’t _ have _ any. I just hate being so… powerless. I can’t move. I can’t do anything. Just sit in the hammock and pray that you guys can fix me before I lose my mind. Hell, I’d rather have never escaped the Pent House than live like this.”

Prison over dependence. Suffering over worry. Resignation over hope.

Adam gradually quieted, too exhausted to cry anymore. One last stray tear disappeared into his beard when he wanted nothing more than to embrace Megan like she held him, the burning desire smothered by the numbness.

“...I don’t know what to do when I need help with even the most basic things that I could still do on my own just after the surgery, and I’m terrified. Not because I’m worried you’d let me down. No. I trust you and David with my life, Megan. I trust you to take care of me.” His very core was bare when he met Megan’s eyes again. “I’m scared that however long it takes you to fix this, I might not last through it. Mentally, I mean. I don’t want to go through another odyssey of useless therapy that doesn’t help because of fucking course I’m the only person in the world this sort of thing happens to, and if I don’t know how to handle it, neither does anybody else.” Adam wetted his lips.

“Look… I know you meant well when you told David you had concerns if I’d handle losing my augs completely, even if it’s for just a month or something. It was right for you to tell him, take him back down to earth a bit. You know how wrapped up he gets in his ideas. But… something about the way you said it dredged up stuff I was hoping I’d never have to deal with. Now I’m almost more worried about myself than you are about me.”

“Oh, Adam…” Megan cupped his cheeks in her palms. She held his miserable gaze for a long moment, searching for words.

“I’m sorry it was hurtful to you. I guess there’s still things we need to talk out, but I don’t think now’s the right moment for that,” she said quietly and began stroking the short fuzz of his sideburns with her thumbs. “I know where to look for the solution now. David’s gonna remove your limbs as soon as possible, and then I can get to work. This isn’t much different to the research I did on your DNA before the… before everything changed. It’s right up my alley of expertise, see?”

Adam closed his eyes. “Yeah. I want to believe you, trust me. But a part of me is worried even you won’t make it. The Illuminati are always one step ahead, damn them all.”

“Not anymore,” Megan protested. “...at least, soon they won’t be anymore. David wanted it to be a surprise, but…” She offered him a smile. “He’s been working on new augs for you. New versions of all the ones SI used to sell, too, but also a set of unique augs that he’s making just for you.”

“He… what?” Adam blinked, caught off guard. “How long?”

“He claims he’s been at it since twenty-seven, but I don’t think he even got the idea until last year, or twenty-nine at the very earliest.”

“Right under my nose? I guess that’s what the workshop’s for after all. But I don’t think I’ve seen any prostheses lying around in there, at least none that look like mine.”

Megan shook her head. “That’s because he’s been waiting for a chance to reverse-engineer the stuff Orlov built into yours. It’s not just arms and legs - his idea is to replace _ everything_. How he’s gonna do that without literally taking you apart and putting you back together is beyond me, but he’s absolutely sure it can be done.” She gently ran a hand across Adam’s chest. “You _ did _ survive injuries and a huge surgery that would’ve killed anybody else ten times over…”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” Adam said, shoulders shifting in a shrug. “Back in your lab you were clearly against replacing my augs. What changed your mind? Are you just worried about me being without them or is there more to that?”

“It’s… a little bit of both,” Megan admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still concerned about how you’re gonna handle not having any limbs, mainly regarding your perception but also needing assistance and all that. You convinced me it’s gonna work out fine, and I believe that.” She hesitated. “About _ replacing _ the augs… it’s complicated. I can see that David’s changed for the better. Common sense tells me that he swore to never go behind your back on anything ever again. But… I don’t know. It’s a gut feeling. I have a hard time believing that there’s no ulterior motive to him making all those new augs just for you, Adam. I’m concerned that he just wants to put you on a leash again. I hope I’m wrong.”

Adam mulled this over for a while. Megan’s palm remained on the spot above his heart, hoping to soothe and reassure, applying the lightest pressure to feel the strength of his pulse.

“I hope so too,” he sighed. “I’ll talk to him when the time’s right. I wouldn’t mind having some more tools, or improved performance. But you’re right, it just feels too good to be true… at least without some sort of cost.” 

He rested his forehead against Megan’s. “Think this is enough serious talk for today. Not gonna lie, I’m exhausted. Head’s still buzzing, though. Can we… I don’t know, watch cat videos?” he asked with a tired smile. 

Megan shifted to press a feathery kiss to his lips, pleasant tingling running down her spine from the tickling sensation of his beard against her chin. When she pulled away with a smirk, Adam had a feeling he knew how he was going to fall asleep tonight. “Let me get you a treat. You damn well deserve all of them with this whole situation going on.”

He watched expectantly as she knelt upright and fished a semi-opaque orange bottle out of her nightstand. The fruity scent of his favorite massage oil alone loosened some tension in his back, and he hummed with pleasure when she pushed back the blankets and her soft palms began to spread the oil across his chest and abdomen.

Megan put the bottle away and used both her hands, a dreamy smile on her lips as she held Adam’s gaze. She leaned down to kiss him tenderly and press lightly to feel the firmness of his chiseled muscles under her fingertips, allowing herself to be lost in sensation. 

“I love your body as much as I love you, Adam,” she muttered softly. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure you can be yourself again. If that… makes any sense.”

Tension bunched beneath her palms when Adam lifted his head to deepen the kiss. He shooed away the nagging worries like obnoxious birds, old stubbornness coming back to keep them from doing the same.

Panchaea’s phantoms cowered that night.

Gentle hands, warm lips and whispered affirmations of love slowly lulled Adam into far more restful sleep than he had expected. His dreams were fragmentary, but felt more like flipping through family photographs than his own mind bombarding him with splintered memories like knives. Megan’s and Isaac’s faces, occasionally Mac’s or Sarif’s too, appeared in images of… simple domesticity. A life that Adam wished deeply for, free of secrecy and violence and schemes - not only for himself, but so his son could grow up in a better world. Safer. A world worth living in.

Determination gathered while he dreamed and crushed his fear like his fist shattered concrete. _ They can make this right again._

* * *

Morning came too soon.

Adam awoke to find Theo curled up next to him, warm and soft against his bare side. He wanted to raise a hand to stroke the cat’s well-kept grey coat only to be harshly reminded that the previous day’s nightmare had been all too real and his limbs were still cold, dead metal.

A frustrated groan made Theo stir. He yawned, baring his teeth, then promptly stood up, climbed on top of Adam’s abdomen and took his place there. Adam pulled a lopsided grin and lifted his head. “Megan, are you up?”

“Coming!” Megan called from the adjacent bathroom. Within a minute she emerged, already dressed in comfortable but equally elegant pants with an ornate long-sleeved shirt, her hair done up in a bun.

“Morning, love,” she hummed when she sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through Adam’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey… squished.” Adam chuckled, and Theo shifted on top of him. “I slept better than expected. And this little guy’s trying to tell me something, I think.”

Megan gently poked the cat in the side to get him to move. “Nah, he’s just being clingy. I already fed him. Isaac’s hungry, though, and he absolutely doesn’t want to have breakfast without you. So let’s get going, slowpoke.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Adam waited for a moment after Theo had hopped off him. Eyebrows knitted together in concentration, the muscles of his abdomen tensed as he sat upright with a bit of effort, grunting. “At least I can still do this on my own.”

“But not this.” Megan leaned forward and slung her arms around his waist, then lifted him up. A light blush spread across Adam’s cheeks at the motion leaving their bodies pressed together, but he was also glad she kept herself in good shape, hardly struggling to carry him on her own. She carefully placed him in his wheelchair, then moved into the bathroom. 

After thirty minutes of fumbling and improvising, Megan victoriously wheeled an adequately clean and dressed Adam into the kitchen. “Morning, boys!”

Isaac, sitting at the table, lit up, and Mac turned halfway around from his spot at the stove. “Good mornin’. Bacon’s almost done, sit tight.”

“No Sunday breakfast’s complete without bacon,” Adam sighed contently, smiling warmly at Isaac. “Did you sleep well, buddy?”

The boy nodded excitedly. “Uh-huh! Uncle Mac read me a nice story for bed.”

“_Mister Tinker _ again, right? That’s great. I like that one too.” 

Bacon, scrambled eggs and plenty more delicacies were served soon. Isaac insisted on trying his hand at helping his father eat, endearingly determined to hold his little hands steady, and he made far less of a mess than expected of a four-year-old. 

Adam watched Mac dutifully clean up and start the dishwasher afterwards, and spontaneously wished the moment could last forever. Right now they were just a family - a gifted scientist, a one-man-army Aug, their little genius child and a rough-edged soldier with a heart of gold. What else could one want?

He belatedly noticed the latter looking at him in concern over the rim of a mug of steaming pitch-black coffee, and blinked to regain his bearings. Isaac had climbed into his lap, and at some point Megan had gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Worried about the op?” Mac asked, putting down his mug.

Adam shook his head. “No. I trust David to know what he’s doing. I’m just… I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“Tell us.”

His brow furrowed. “Frustrated over not being able to move _ and _ being constantly reminded of that. It’s barely been two days and I’m already sick of it.” Adam heaved a sigh, and Isaac squeezed his sides in an attempt to soothe him. “And yeah, worried too, of course. Not gonna lie, I’m scared that either David and Megan won’t be able to fix me at all, or I’ll lose my mind before they do,” he added matter-of-factly, last night’s smothering fear little more than an echo now that he was well rested and fed.

Mac’s gaze wandered as he quietly processed this for a moment. His worries were the exact same, though not quite as specific. He wanted Adam to be whole again, damn it. Or at least be _ himself _again.

“I’m not gonna tell you that it’s only human to be terrified,” he responded dryly. “We’ve both heard that pep talk a million times.” The specialist paused to sip his coffee before continuing. “You _ will _ get through this. We’ve got your six - all three of us, aye?”

Megan agreed, and Isaac wondered aloud what the number six had to do with this, but only clung more tightly to Adam’s waist. 

“Sarif knows all of your body like the back of his own hand. I may not understand how any of this high-tech aug shtick works, not to mention the Orchid and what else Megan’s the resident expert on, but I can safely say that if there’s anybody on this blessed earth who can fix you up good as new, it’s these two.” 

Mac met Adam’s gaze, laid one hand on his other shoulder above the dead prosthesis and squeezed firmly, doubling down. “Whatever’s got you bothered at the minute, we’re all gonna do our damnedest to make every little thing as safe and comfortable for you as humanly possible, no matter how much of an inconvenience it might be for us.”

Adam nodded mutely and looked down at his empty bowl. “...Yeah. Thanks, Mac. I guess I needed to hear it again.” When Mac’s calloused hand briefly caressed his neck, he leaned gratefully into the touch. “Is David up yet?”

“Lad’s an early bird even by agent standards, not gonna lie. It’s only oh-nine-something, but we’re a bunch of sloths by comparison,” Mac replied, running his thick fingers through Adam’s unwashed hair. “He called me at around eight, said he wants you two downstairs in…” He reached into his pocket to check the time on his phone. “...two and a half hours. Plenty of time to clean you up and get you ready, I think.”

“I’ll let you try your hand at that,” Megan teased, only half joking. “I need to prep my lab and talk about the procedure with David and the team. No sense in rushing something this important.”

Mac didn’t object. “Fine by me. I’ll get Isaac something new and shiny to read and then we’re golden.”

The boy bounced excitedly on his father’s lap at the prospect of new reading material, and Adam heaved a sigh of relief. Sometimes Mac’s way of taking responsibility unprompted was exactly what he needed.

Isaac clung to him until Mac play-forcibly pried him off and handed him a pile of teen lifestyle magazines, topics ranging from television shows, video games and music across fashion and sports even to augmentations. Catching a glimpse at a cover image prominently featuring the latter, Adam briefly thought of the moral controversy there must’ve once been over advertising augs to teens, but was rudely interrupted by Mac wheeling him back into his and Megan’s bathroom. 

“All right, carbon boy. Let’s get you cleaned up before the big op.”

* * *

Megan was quiet for a long while after the call ended. Sarif had returned to his workshop’s central computer and begun sketching a draft of some kind by the time she spoke up.

“Are you sure you want to bring him in?” she asked. “The less outside people know about Adam’s situation, the safer all of us are until he’s recovered, including himself. Is he really trustworthy?”

Sarif only briefly looked up at her. “I’ve known him for over twenty years. And you know I don’t consider a lot of people trustworthy these days. So, yes, I trust him, and he’s never gone behind my back,” he said firmly, rotating the monitor in front of him so Megan could see its contents clearly. “Think he’ll like the look of these?”

She rolled her eyes. “God, David, we’re supposed to prepare a medical procedure that may or may not leave him with dysmorphia again, and you’re worried about… whatever this is?”

“It’s not just _ whatever_,” Sarif said matter-of-factly. “These will go over the socket sites and keep them clean and sterile until the tissue’s healed again.” He adjusted some measurements and saved his work. “I’ll talk to him about customizing his wheelchair too, if he wants. Might as well give him every little bit of comfort we can, right?”

“Yes, but-” Megan shook her head and heaved a sigh. “Fine, do what you want with your time. Just don’t get lost in ideas and make Adam wait when he’s ready, please.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “Until we can make a clear diagnosis, time is _ not _ on our side.”

* * *

This time, Mac didn’t let Faherty shoo him off. The scientist begrudgingly allowed him to stay for now, muttering about ‘them soldier types’.

He personally lifted Adam to lay him in the medical cradle, watching as it fanned out in an almost grotesque way to hold his form securely, and the position made it look as if he was on display. Mac stood there in front of him, unfocused gaze lingering on some spot on the agent’s shoulder for a long while as his thoughts went blank. 

At some point, Adam’s gravelly voice reeled him back in. “You okay, Mac?”

The specialist shook himself out of it. “Y-yeah. Just spaced out for a minute. It’s… been a while since I last saw anything like this from the inside.”

“Support goes your way too, yeah? Don’t bottle it up.”

Mac nodded mutely and distracted himself by focusing on Adam, looking him up and down. After helping him shower with a waterproof stool and his own strength, he’d dressed him in loose, comfortable shorts and a tank top that would come off without a fuss. The roots of his arms disappeared under sky-blue cotton, and Mac shoved away the morbid curiosity wondering just how sickeningly _ dead _the flesh underneath had to look. The sight of blood and injuries didn’t faze him in the slightest, but merely picturing what Megan had described well and truly made his skin crawl. 

Not to mention this threatened no other than the man he loved.

Mac reached out and took one of Adam’s hands. They were exactly as cool to the touch as he had once imagined - otherwise never-resting machinery brought to a jarring halt, shutting down once they’d lost the neural signal, or worse, the power lines being cut off entirely. 

These hands, were they flesh and blood, wouldn’t look too different to his own. Long, slender fingers holding tremendous strength. Weathered, calloused skin, worn from years of handling weapons and working hard. Hands like his own that had taken lives, taken someone else’s judgment upon themselves.

Hands that could kill without effort, yet chose to be gentle with him. And Megan, and Isaac, and Aria, once.

“What did your natural hands look like?”

By the time Mac parsed what he’d just said, it was too late to pull the ‘nevermind’ card.

Adam looked down thoughtfully at the gleaming black extremity Mac was holding as if it was a delicate glass sculpture. “I’m not sure anymore,” he murmured, then shook his head. “At some point I wanted to forget that my body hasn’t always been this way. So I did… to some extent.” He lifted his eyes to hold Mac’s gaze, a glimmer of mirth around the corners of his lips. “Why’d you ask? Would you have liked me touching you with them?”

Mac found himself going on the defensive, red shining through his beard. “No- I mean, yes. Yes, I would,” he shot back with playful spite. “I’d like you touching me no matter what your hands are made of.”

“Now that’s a step up from ‘keep those claws away from me’, huh?” Adam arched an eyebrow, glad for the distraction the banter brought. “Didn’t even make sense in hindsight. They don’t have nails, mister bull-head.”

Mac didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of overtly checking for himself, but rather felt around Adam’s fingertips with his own without looking down. “You knew what I meant.”

A smug lopsided grin left him just about seething. “Not sure you really meant that. Though I know you meant it when you called me the best lay in ten years with my hand around-"

Swift as a hawk, Mac silenced him with a rough kiss full of lips and teeth, tongues embracing. Adam pushed back to take control, and Mac let him, relenting with a hand splayed across the side of his warm neck. Greater heat stained his cheeks, remaining when they parted for breath after what still felt far too brief.

His forehead rested against Adam's. Those viridian rings in his eyes cast the faintest glow around them, almost glittering, more brightly so when Mac leaned in for another kiss, softer, more gentle. His hand slid downward to caress the firm muscle of Adam’s chest and came to rest above his heart.

Mac refused to pull away just yet when the entrance door swished open and footsteps approached. Adam dipped his head one more time, then slowly broke the kiss, shifting to instead let his lips brush across the scar on Mac’s cheek and briefly tease his earlobe before leaning back. 

“I’ll be fine,” he assured him softly. “I don’t mind you watching, if you want to.”

Mac exhaled sharply. “No, I’ll pass. I’ve seen my share of gruesome wounds, but this probably is on a whole other level.”

“No pressure,” Sarif spoke up, having just entered, Megan in tow. “I’ll come fetch you once we’re done. Shouldn’t take longer than two hours.”

“Right.” The specialist squeezed Adam’s shoulder before reluctantly turning to leave.

It didn’t entirely feel right to him. He should be there at Adam’s side, not leave him hanging. Not that he didn’t trust Sarif to know the man’s body inside and out - Adam made no secret out of their connection. It was _ something else_. 

Mac wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Oh, Silence Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002951) by [th3rm0pyl43](https://archiveofourown.org/users/th3rm0pyl43/pseuds/th3rm0pyl43)


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